Chapter 39
For a brief moment one morning, Shendal Castle—brimming with spring air—filled with murmurs laced with anticipation. The imperial physician emerging from the Empress's chambers spotted Emperor Leopold approaching leisurely down the corridor and bowed deeply, stepping aside. The Emperor's expression was too bright to deliver the regrettable news, leaving the physician hesitant on how to begin. The tall Emperor reached him in a few strides. Confirming the shoes halted before him, the physician bowed even lower.
"Your servant Roland greets the sun of the empire, Your Majesty."
"We meet often these days. I heard the Empress shows signs of pregnancy—is it true?"
Recalling the Dowager Empress's disappointed face from moments ago asking the same, the physician gripped his medical bag tightly with sweat-slicked hands. His waist bent as if to burrow into the ground.
"That is... regrettably, it does not appear to be a pregnancy, Your Majesty."
"Ah... I see? What a shame."
Fortunately, the Emperor's reaction was more subdued than the Dowager Empress's. Gazing at the firmly shut door of the Empress's room, he raised one eyebrow.
"The Empress isn't seriously ill, is she?"
"No. Her health is fine."
"Then there's no need for me to enter. Right?"
Unsure how to respond, the physician stammered.
"The Dowager Empress is inside, but if Your Majesty personally comforts her, it would be great solace for Her Majesty."
Before he finished, the Emperor shook his head side to side.
"Hmm. The moment I open that door, the Empress might find solace, but I'd endure endless nagging. Hm...."
Staring intently at the ornate, antique door adorned in cream and gold, the Emperor smirked faintly.
"Decision made. I'll turn back now. Since the Empress has no illness needing comfort."
Without chance to dissuade, the Emperor spun and vanished swiftly down the hall. The attendant following Emperor Leopold Bolshtak II voiced concern.
"Your Majesty, perhaps still enter and see Her Majesty?"
Leopold waved his index finger skyward, shaking his head.
"No, no. Do you think I'd get a word in with the Empress if I entered? I'd just hear Mother's nagging till my ears bleed. Better stroll the garden than enter obvious hell—at least my ears survive."
Hands behind back, Leopold hummed leaving the Empress's palace. Looking up revealed a cloudless blue sky. Too fine to waste on Mother's lectures about heirs. Smiling toward the fountain bubbling refreshingly, Leopold felt unusually cheerful despite the news. Enough to greet Ulrich Chamberlain Count—old with no reason for joy—with a laugh.
"Nice to see you here, Count."
"Your servant Chamberlain greets the sun of the empire, Bolshtak II."
"Visiting Mother?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I heard you'd gone to the Empress's palace, so I strolled the garden waiting."
"Paths crossed. Advice: Mother's mood seems foul today—best leave after your walk."
Guessing something, deeper wrinkles creased Chamberlain Count's brow.
"What a shame. I offer condolences, Your Majesty."
As expected—none matched Ulrich Chamberlain's perceptiveness. Unable to hold back, Leopold burst laughing.
"Haha. You truly know everything."
"I am humbled, Your Majesty. Merely, the Dowager Empress had high hopes these past days."
"Even I, her husband, learned today what you knew days ago. How can I not admire your abilities? If anyone calls you old, relay my words."
Chuckling heartily, Leopold strolled to the garden's flower-filled center. Lilies bloomed vibrantly everywhere, welcoming him. Gazing at the vibrant white-and-purple field, he smiled faintly.
"Patricia would've loved this. Pity."
Standing behind, Chamberlain Count eyed the Emperor's nape in slight surprise.
"Still thinking of Vutain Baron's wife? I heard you'd cut ties to her territory.... Not so?"
Cut ties? Just distancing due to Mother's fuss. Where else a woman more honest than Patricia amid his world of pretense?
"She's a good woman. If only not out of Mother's favor, I could've kept her closer. Mother, why chase her so harshly?"
"Unfitting, Your Majesty."
Patricia Butein, Vutain Baron's wife, had committed lese-majeste and been banished. Despite the Emperor's affection, she'd received vast lands. Recalling humiliations from that, Chamberlain gripped his cane tightly, restraining urge to seize the nape.
"Your Majesty, Vutain Baron's wife blamed you for her infertility and survived with excessive grace. Embarrassing to hear, so retract that Mother was harsh."
"So serious. Honestly, understandable from her side. Children came easily with her late husband, not with me. Natural to suspect me...."
"Your Majesty!"
Knowing interruption disloyal, Chamberlain raised his voice unable to bear more. Nearby attendants and knights stiffened. Approaching cane in hand, he lowered voice fearing listeners.
"A problem with Your Majesty? Never utter such. You are the empire's Emperor, not some commoner. How such reckless words? This old servant's heart nearly stopped."
Reckless? Amusing. Who knew nobles' talk of heirless twenty-six-year-old Emperor? Bitter smile curled Leopold's lips. Mother selected current Empress from Twelve Dukes' Leningen Duke house. Distant cousins, really. Reasons: secure one of four remaining Twelve Dukes early against rebellion; most sons among survivors. Yet Mother's efforts vain—seven childless years post-marriage. Not just Empress worrisome. No pregnancies from any woman Emperor bedded. Patricia's suspicion not baseless? Plucking white lily stem, Leopold twirled it between fingers, chuckling at Chamberlain.
"Speaking of which, time to confirm."
"Confirm what, Your Majesty?"
Tucking flower in Count's chest, Leopold swept golden forelock touching brow.
"If problem's mine. Meet Patricia, try properly—then know."
*** Waking mornings better failed; throat clogged tight. Swollen surely. Aching legs, stiff arms meant full cold.
"Haa.... Dust finally caught up."
Brabant Hall to here distance immense. Dust-choked library rummage, awkward sleep. No wonder pain.
"Aigoo."
Lifting limp arm removed forehead cloth. Muriel visited overnight. Knock knock. Bedroom door rapped.
"Come in."
Muriel or Anton dragged by her, thought Frida. Surprisingly, husband Duke Rihardt entered.
"What brings you early?"
"Physician waits outside. Shall I send him in?"
"......Yes."
Excessive politeness felt distant, but no time mind. Post-exam Anton left; Daniel's shocking news followed.
"T-Today? Boild couple arrives today? With Updyke Margrave heir too?"
What now? Skadi Hall unfinished. Updyke heir! His room? Bed?
"Mercy."
Frida clutched hair, yelping.
"Then welcome banquet tonight. Adel's terribly tense. Never made noble cuisine—mountains of worry."
No time. Prioritize Updyke heir's room. Bedless though.... Madness. Where beds tonight? Rising tossed quilt, dizziness dropped her back.
"Calm down, Madam."
Daniel's nonchalance most resented today.
"How? No bed for Updyke heir in castle. Bought two for couple."
"Told Dominic move one to another Skadi room. Couple close—hope they manage awhile."
"Ah...... G-Good job."
Scrambling atop bed, Frida slumped against bedpost blankly. Biggest headache solved neatly. Absurd question slipped.
"Then...... what next?"
Hearing it, Daniel replied utmost calm.
"Nothing. No need greet personally. I'll suffice—rest more, Madam. Banquet simple; attend only."
"But......"
"One request instead."
"What? Anything I can do."
"Only you can."
Only me? Frida blinked up blankly.
Guests today? Dark jacket ornate beyond usual—he looked strikingly handsome mornings.
"As Rihardt Duchess, face them proudly, elegantly."
That? Harkbon tutor's harsh training boasted history, tradition.
"As Munheim Castle's lady, higher than arrivals—greet steadfastly."
Grandiose, yet fine. Steadfast? This Frida excelled.
"That's all?"
Uncomfortable silence; Daniel spoke quietly.
"If possible......"
Uncharacteristic voice tremor—hallucination, thought Frida.
"Be as affectionate toward me as possible?"
No.
"......Pardon?"
"Especially before Updyke heir—boldly, actively."
B-Bold? Active? What?
"You may touch me."
